by P B Hughes
“A Borufa,” whispered Gregory. He couldn’t help admiring such a powerful creature, but was quickly snapped back to reality.
The beast let out another roar and hurtled toward Caden, teeth bared.
Caden stumbled backward into the iron ladder behind him and climbed up. Just as he reached the top, the beast slammed into the side of the platform, snapping and clawing, trying to rip off a foot or hand. Caden crawled backward, his hindquarters dragging across the dirt. The Borufa circled the platform, growling hungrily, watching Caden with starved eyes.
Caden moved to the center of the platform and glanced up at the hovering orbs, tempted to take one and be done with this new menace. Then he shook his head and stood, moving to the center of the platform. He pointed the tip of his staff to the ground, and a wall of fire encircled him, casting him as a vaporous scarlet specter behind.
The Borufa looked confused, and sniffed the air with its oversized snout. Caden had masked his scent with the fire. The beast let out a howl and turned its attention away from Caden—it snuffled the ground like a hound, then its head shot up. It spotted another student, a girl hiding amongst a pile of brush. The creature rushed toward her with great, lumbering strides, tongue flopping out of its mouth. The girl screamed and shot a tiny fireball that did nothing more than tickle the beast. In an instant, it was on her, clawing, about to crush her between his jowls, when she was whisked away from his paws inside a bubble. Infuriated, the beast let out a growl that shook the stadium, and began again to hunt.
Gregory strained his thinking—now he had to deal with both Caden and the Borufa and couldn’t figure out which was worse.
“Think, Gregory, think,” he muttered to himself. “All that studying they forced you to do can’t be for nothing.”
He remembered that the Borufa’s flaming mane was inconsequential—it was as cool as the air around them—and that they have poor eyesight, especially in daylight. However, what they lacked in sight they made up for with a powerful sense of smell. Worst of all, they had insatiable appetites—even if it managed to capture and eat each student, its hunger wouldn’t abate. A squawk caught his ear and he looked up to the sky where the seagulls hovered, waiting for the snacks the crowd would inevitably drop. An idea gripped him.
He darted out from behind the boulder, flinging fireballs at the squawking sea birds. He hit an especially fat one, and it fell several feet from his hiding place. On all fours, he scrambled toward the smoking bird, snatched it up, and stuffed it inside his pouch. His eyes darted around the arena, and then he snapped his fingers in frustration. He needed rope, and the pile lay in a twisted heap behind a redheaded boy who was crouched behind an overturned table.
Gregory hurried from one shelter to the next, trying not to draw attention to himself. Fortunately, Caden hadn’t budged from behind his flaming wall. Gregory ducked behind a large barrel. Twenty yards away lay the pile of rope. Counting to three, he rushed out in the open. He slid before the pile and began tugging out several ropes, looking for the right lengths and thickness. He sorted through them until he found what he was looking for—a long thick one and a thin shorter one. A fireball soared over his head. To his left, a blonde boy stood with a look that said he wished he hadn’t accosted Gregory.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Gregory.
The boy tried to throw another fireball, but before he could, Gregory leapt into the air and sent a wave of flames sweeping toward the boy, setting him alight. Almost immediately he was whisked away in a bubble.
Gregory wrapped the ropes around his shoulder and collapsed behind the table where the boy had been hiding. He pulled the bird from his pouch and plucked it clean of its feathers. Then, he tied its head with a thin rope, and tied the other end to his staff, dangling the bird as though it were a fish on the end of a fishing pole. With the second rope, he created a wide noose. Gregory gulped. He eyed one of the wooden wagons nearby and sprinted toward it. It was still perfectly intact. He wrapped the front axle with the opposite end of his noose.
“Hey you dumb mutt,” he shouted at the Borufa, “come and get it!” He dangled the roasted bird from the end of his line.
The beast turned around and sniffed the air, releasing a deep-throated snarl.
“That’s it!” teased Gregory. “You’re hungry for some delicious bird aren’t you?”
The other Miraclists remaining peered out from their hiding places to get a look, curious at this new turn of events.
The beast pawed the ground, and then lumbered toward Gregory, gaining velocity. Gregory scrambled onto the wagon, still holding the cooked bird in front of him enticingly. The Borufa was frantic, drool dripping from its jowls.
“Yee-haw, come on, you stupid dog!”
Gregory swung the bird away from the Borufa, and then with a flick of his wrist, sent the noose flying around its neck. The wagon gave a terrible lurch, nearly throwing him from his seat. Gregory waved the bird just inches from its snapping jaws and was off—racing around the perimeter of the arena. The crowd was in stitches; laughter filled the stadium. Caden’s wall of fire evaporated as he gaped out to see Gregory rushing about like a carriage driver who had lost control of his steed. For a moment, he was dumbfounded—enthralled by the ridiculous sight before him. Then his eyebrows knitted and he hurled fireball after fireball, exploding about them like meteors. Caden could not land a successful hit.
“How do you like my pet, Caden?” called Gregory, turning the Borufa toward him.
Suddenly, with a war cry, the remaining students—ten in all, raced toward Caden from out of their wooden hideaways.
Caden’s face contorted with rage. He took a few steps back, just in reach of an orb. Gregory and the Borufa pitched toward the platform, but Caden held his ground. He let out a violent cry, and then tried to send another wave of fire at them. All that emanated was a puff of smoke.
“All out—” hollered Gregory as he leapt from the back of the wagon, jerking the bird into the air. He landed on the platform, rolling to a stop in front of the orbs, “—of juice!” he whipped his staff around and smacked Caden square across the jaw with the end. Caden went sprawling to the ground, tumbled over and grabbed an orb. Instantly, he was carried away in a sphere. Gregory snorted with anger, then reached up and took an orb of his own just as a half-dozen fireballs blasted in front of him—he would move on to the next round.
Chapter 25
“That’s my boy, Gregory!” Mordecai bellowed when the match ended, pounding his fists against the sky.
“He did it,” Martha cried, hopping up and down with excitement. “I can’t believe he did it!” Daniel noticed her cheeks blush with embarrassment over her lack of faith, and she quickly turned toward Mordecai and the other students. “I mean, I knew he could... he always could. But he never…you know? But he did! I mean, I had my doubts. That’s normal, right? I mean, I know it is. Oh, but I’m just so happy for him! I knew he could do it!”
Rin’s voice rang out through the stadium. “And Caden Baine has single-handedly eliminated thirteen Miraclists—staving off the others from capturing a single orb until he brought them down—what a match!”
“What about Gregory?” Daniel shouted, annoyed by the blatant favoritism from the announcer. His protests fell flat, though, as the clamor around them drowned him out.
“Caden’s the favorite,” Jude informed them. “It doesn’t matter how well any of the other Ruby Miraclists perform, Caden will be the one they focus on.” He gave an irritated glance toward the Judges section as the Ruby Miraclists stepped out, Caden standing at the front while the others grouped behind him. “His father promoted him to the fame of a superstar. I’ve even seen him on the cover of posters littered throughout town.”
“It’s not a popularity contest,” Daniel said. “Why does his father care?”
“Someone has to lead the Guardians. And that is the Judges’ decision. Charisma, leadership, skill, intelligence—all are factored into choosing the Alpha.”
“Precisely.”
“But that’s not fair,” said Martha, eyebrows tightening and arms folding across her chest incredulously. “Gregory’s just as good as Caden!”
“I hate to admit it,” Daniel said, “but I don’t know of anyone in this competition who can compete with Caden’s prowess.”
Jude glanced at Daniel from the corner of his eye, his lips taut.
“Contrary to popular belief,” growled Mordecai, “sheer brawn is not enough to make it through this competition. And I think Gregory just proved he has a mind capable of incredible feats.”
“Okay ladies and gentlemen,” Rin’s voice rang out, echoing throughout the stadium “it’s time for an hour of intermission—then we’ve got the Gold Miraclists up next!”
The people murmured eagerly and began to file out of the stadium in search for their midday meal.
“Excuse me, students,” said a woman, an Emerald Miraclist who stood up in their midst. “We have lunch prepared for all of you—if you’ll follow me please!”
“You go with her,” muttered Mordecai. “I’ll meet you back here within the hour.”
The students filed out behind the woman up the stairs until they reached the hallway. It was roped off and lined with guards toting spears, providing them a clear path through the crowd, many of whom remained, gaping and cheering as the students paraded through. They traveled down the corridor until they reached a door. The woman opened it and led them to a space lined with tables and chairs. On the tables was a meal of piping-hot turkey legs, fruit, bread, and goblets of water. Daniel and Jude took a seat and began to eat in silence when Ari approached them.
“I heard you advanced, Daniel,” she said, attempting to take a seat next to him. “I wasn’t able to watch your entire match, but I caught the beginning of it. Caden filled me in on the rest—congratulations.”
Daniel went rigid at the mention of Caden’s name, but remained polite.
Jude placed a hand on the seat before she could sit down. “This is saved for Gregory.”
“Don’t be such a boor, Jude,” Daniel objected. He turned to Ari. “And thanks. It was quite impressive the way you teamed up to get around those imps.”
She did not sit down. “Wretched things—the lot of them. My father will have a word with the Committee about their use of such wicked creatures.”
“Oh, your father’s here?” asked Daniel.
“Why of course he is,” she responded, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t miss it. Aren’t your parents here?”
Daniel felt the blood rush to his face, and averted his gaze. “No, they’re not here. Leastways, I don’t think they’re here.”
“Why ever not? If they knew how well you were doing I’m sure they wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“They couldn’t make it,” said Daniel.
“Couldn’t make it to the Grand Investiture when their own son is—”
“He’s an orphan,” said Jude, flatly as he took out a scroll from his pack and began to study it. “His parents abandoned him when he was a baby.”
Ari looked mortified. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Finally, the words found her. “I—I’m very sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” Daniel replied. “There’s no way you could have known without my telling you.”
She stood a moment in silence and then backed away. “Well, it looks like your friend is here,” she said, nodding toward an approaching Gregory. “I’ll see you around, Daniel.”
Ari walked away and joined several Apex students who were gathered around a table, waiting for Caden’s arrival.
“Say hello to the cleverest Ruby Miraclist in all of Orsidia!” announced Gregory, plunking himself down next to them. “Did you see the look on Caden’s face when I jumped off the wagon?”
Neither of them responded.
“Hey, why so glum?” Gregory said feeling dejected. “I figure you two would be excited for me, or at least pleased to be associated with me. I figure I’ll be a star now.”
“Unlikely,” said Jude as a cheer rang out from the Apex students. Caden just entered the room. “Caden will still steal any attention you might have earned based on the mere fact that he’s a celebrity. You may have advanced, but as far as the audience is concerned, your fate is written in stone.”
Gregory cast a bitter look in Caden’s direction. “That lout. Can you believe he tried to bar us from getting an orb? What was he trying to prove?”
“That he is the best,” said Jude. “That he can dominate any other Miraclist.”
Caden accepted the cheers graciously, giving nods to his fellow students. Then, he marched over to Ari and whispered an inaudible comment in her ear. Together, they sat to eat their lunch, surrounded by their peers.
“He seeks power,” said Daniel darkly. “He wants to make it clear that he has no rivals.”
Jude flicked a grape into his mouth. “Exactly. What Caden did was indeed impressive—I’ll give him that. But what he did won’t compare with what I’m about to do.”
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked, giving Jude a suspicious look.
“You’ll find out,” Jude answered, lifting the edge of his goblet to his mouth. “I’m going to make what Caden did look like child’s play.”
* * *
Jude leaned his new sleek black staff against the wall of the tunnel and cracked his knuckles. The emerald at the top was cut into a diamond shape, sharp and beautiful. He was pensive—collected and ready. His hawk-like features glowed in the dim light, dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Jude opened his rawhide pouch and eyed the glowing purple crystals, a scroll and quill tucked safely next to them. Around his waist was fastened a leather belt lined with pockets that were buttoned shut. It wouldn’t be long now. Only seconds lay between him and the action. He reached inside his cloak and caressed the polished black stone given to him by Judge Marriott.
“It’s a good luck charm of sorts,” the Judge had said.
Jude didn’t believe in luck, and took the stone reluctantly, not wanting to offend the tiny man. But when he touched the stone, he felt power—a strange force that made him feel alive, stronger, and more alert. Earlier that morning, he rose in the darkness, before Daniel and Gregory, and practiced using energy. The results pleased him. The plants looked healthier, more robust, and he found he didn’t tire as easily.
The Spyball began to whir. Jude snatched his staff and his eyes flashed emerald. He inhaled deeply as the ball blinked one, two, three, then four. The gate flew open and Jude darted forward with catlike swiftness. He snapped open one of the pockets on his belt and took out a single seed. He flew out from the tunnel and slid to a stop in a meadow. The floor of the arena was covered in a blanket of grass, and the middle rose up into a hill from the edges to the center. Shouts echoed as already two Miraclists engaged in combat. Jude knelt to the ground, placed his hands on the grass and closed his eyes. He could feel them—the other students as they stood on each blade of grass that spread out like veins through the stadium floor.
“And here,” he said as he dropped the seed beneath his feet, “we go.”
The seed sank into the ground, and a tiny, black sprout sprang up—one inch, then two—a viper-like vine, dancing and weaving. Suddenly, the vine took a dive into the ground. Jude spread his arms out and flexed his entire body. Sweat began to pour from his forehead. He reached inside his pouch and pulled out a mana-crystal, draining it of its energy.
A tall, fair-skinned girl spotted him from across the field. She pulled out a fistful of six pointed leaves from her pack and hurled them at Jude like throwing stars. Her eyes sparked as the edges of the leaves hardened into sharp, deadly razors, slicing through the air with a swish.
Jude twitched, raising his palm in front of him, freezing the green stars only inches before they met him. It
was his will against hers. A pained look contorted her face as she strained to maintain control of her weapons. The look was replaced by one of horror as she realized she did not have the strength to defeat him. She dropped her arms and fled. The razor-leafs redirected, spinning after her with deadly precision.
SPAT-SPAT-SPAT.
They caught her in the back—she tumbled forward face-first onto the grassy floor, tried to stand, and then collapsed to the ground with a mournful groan; a bubble encircled her and carried her away.
Jude resumed his work, sapping another stone of its energy; eyes glazed over, he placed his hands back to the grass, closing them tightly. His lips formed a half-smile, like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. He thrust his arms into the sky.
Beneath the feet of all twenty-two remaining Miraclists, the earth swelled and puckered. Then, bursting forth like a geyser, black vines erupted from the ground, entangling their arms, legs, necks, and torsos—flinging their staffs from their hands. Not one of them escaped the ambush of the pulling, squeezing tendrils. The crowd gasped. Never had any contestant incapacitated every other Miraclist at once.
Jude had used the grass to find each student, every blade becoming an extension of himself, no different than the hairs on his skin. The vines, an invasive species that grew at subterranean depths, were used as vessels to search and destroy. He singled out this species of vine out specifically. Though actually very small in its natural state, if manipulated it made a potent weapon due to its ability to tear through stone and spread like wildfire, choking out the life of other plants in its wake.
Jude fell to his knees, exhausted, his body trembling. He reached a quivering hand inside his pouch, absorbed his last crystal and rose to his feet. Then he moved, with slow, deliberate strides, uncontested toward the center of the arena. The crowd sat in awed silence. He did not look to his left or right—ignoring the writhing vines and gagged students as they grunted and moaned.